Chapter Text
Being deaf in a big city is not easy. This is something I have known my entire life.
Although I know that my Father means well, forcing our family to move from Virginia to New York might be one of the dumbest things he has ever done. He decided to move when he found out how I was being treated at my, technically, old school.
Most of the other students are rude to me and mock me for not being able to hear or speak to them. The majority of the teachers do nothing to stop the other students from making the jokes. Those same teachers have told my Father countless times that they think it would be best if I did not attend public school, due to my disability. That was my father's breaking point before researching different schools.
"I'll try to find one here, but I will not hesitate to move this family if that's what it takes," my father signed and spoke as we all sat around the table eating dinner.
"That's not fair to the boys or me, Frederick. We have lives here. We cannot just up and move anywhere!" My stepmother just spoke. Thank God I was good at reading lips.
Helen has been in my life since I was five years old. Within the last eleven years, she has not taken the time to even try to learn sign language. It did not bother me as much as it did my father, especially since both of my brothers have been slowly learning the complex language that I communicate in.
"Yes, we all have lives here, but Annabeth deserves to be treated like a person with her academics. Her teachers told me that they do not have the time or the tools to help her move forward with her academics," my father sign-spoke again.
"You and your daughter are selfish! Do you want Bobby and Matthew to leave all their friends and their sports behind? Both of them are just now getting good at soccer!" She said, getting angry.
"Helen, I will find a good school that offers great sports teams so the boys can continue to play," my father said, rubbing the space between his eyes.
"What about your job? You can't just leave the museum like this. What do they think of this?" Helen exclaimed.
"I've talked to my boss, and he said that whatever state we move to, he will get ahold of each museum to put in a good word for me," he replied.
"What if we just get her hearing aids, Frederick? We've been discussing it for years, so let's just get it done. You need to get over your fears of her being made fun of for being deaf. Then we can stay here," Helen tried to negotiate.
"Honey, Annabeth has been bullied enough over the years. Just imagine what these kids will do when she has hearing aids."
"I don't care, Frederick. This is something you should've thought about all those years ago," Helen said, standing up from the table and walking away.
"It's okay, Annabeth. She'll come around to the idea," my Father signed, a sad look on his face.
I looked over at the boys; both of them had their heads down. Bobby was the first one to look over at me, a small smile forming.
"It's okay, we're okay with leaving them behind if it's what's best for you," he signed messily.
"Thank you," I signed back, guilt filling up my heart. "May I be excused?"
"Of course," my Father signed.
He barely got to finish signing before I stood up and headed upstairs to my room. I looked around my room, tears filling my eyes as it dawned on me that in a few months, I would never see this room again. Or this town. Or my school. However, the idea of leaving the house my Mother and Father picked out, the house they thought they both would bring their first child to. Helen did not like having pictures of my Mother out for guests, or the twins, to see, as it might be confusing to them why another woman is with their father. The twins do know how my Mother died, but never say much about it.
The only rooms in our house that hold pictures of my mother are my bedroom and my Father's office. Helen did not like that my Father kept pictures of my mother in his office, but also understood why he did. It made no sense how she feels about the pictures.
I sat down on my bed, picking up the small three-part picture frame that holds different pictures of my father and mother together on each side, while the one in the middle is the only family portrait we will ever have together.
"I miss you, Mom," I signed before wiping my eyes and crawling under my covers.
I stare up at the ceiling, counting down in my head how many days are left until the summer. Eighty days left at this school. If I had to guess, my father would spend these last few months continuing his research on different schools that specifically accommodate students like me. Then the summer will be filled with house hunting and moving.
Before fully falling asleep, I grabbed the notebook I keep in my bedside drawer. Each night I write about anything good, anything that is bothering me, or anything that crosses my mind while I am writing. My speech therapist recommended this to my Father when I was younger; when my Father still had hope I would learn to speak.
~Ten Years Earlier~
"It's more important to let her express herself through writing while we are working on getting her to speak," the therapist said, after going over multiple things with my Father about my hearing and speech.
"Will she ever be able to speak?" My father asked, his arm wrapped around me.
I sat beside him, playing a game on his phone. Like all my appointments, this is how he kept me occupied, since each one usually took a while.
"It's very uncommon for deaf children to speak without hearing aids or cochlear implants. Your daughter seems to be smart, but without being able to hear herself, I doubt she will ever actually speak," the doctor explained. "I know at your last appointment we did not talk about either option, but would you be interested in purchasing either for Annabeth?"
"I wish," my father responded, "there's no way I could afford either at the moment."
"That's understandable. We can talk about this in the future once you get the funds to purchase one or the other," she said with a smile.
"Thank you," my father responded, gently tapping me on the shoulder to get my attention, motioning to me that we were about to leave.
"Mr. Chase, please do not bring yourself down for not being able to afford either option for Annabeth. You're doing more than most parents in your place would never do," she said.
"Thank you, again," my father responded, picking me up and leaving the office.
~*~
Unintentionally, I wrote down the same things that I have been writing down for the last couple of years.
Why will Helen and Dad not get me hearing aids?